


Triumph of the Flesh

by applejackcat



Series: Adventures in Poetry [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applejackcat/pseuds/applejackcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One lonely night, a drunken Gold posts an ad in the Casual Encounters section of Craigslist. Belle stumbles upon it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triumph of the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based off of a prompt written by the amazing RipperBlackstaff.

Roan Gold’s finger hovered over the return key. He hadn’t taken a sip of scotch in nearly a half hour, and as he stumbled his way towards soberness, the ad seemed more and more ill-advised.

> _I am a man in his fifties looking to spoil you rotten with my talented tongue. I will give you all of the pleasure! Let us give into our passion and stoke the fires of our lust._

Ah, yes, there was the charm that would make women fall into his bed. He might as well post a picture of himself pulling a fedora down over one eye. Any women he’d want to please would be aghast at this sort of pitch.

> _SWM, fifties, seeks SWF for NSA cunnilingus._

Gold disliked this dispassionate approach even more. He wanted his words to arouse a woman so much that she would take a chance on a lonely stranger and allow him to spend the night with his face buried between her thighs.

Reaching for the nearby bottle of Johnnie Walker, Gold took a healthy swig and focused upon the alcohol’s delicious burn. His hand found its way to his lap, where he cupped his erection through his pajama pants. He stroked himself absent-mindedly, his hips rolling upwards to meet his palm. The pleasure Gold felt fortified him, and he recommitted himself to the mission.

In every other aspect of his life, Gold had a way with words and a talent for getting exactly what he wanted. Sex and romance had always been the exceptions to this rule, and gods, tonight was the night to change that.

Gold set about constructing his final rewrite.

* * *

“Fuck.”

Not one of Ruby’s friends paid her exclamation any attention. Their focus was riveted upon Ariel, who wore a look of fierce concentration. The redhead had her legs tucked neatly behind her head and was in the process of lifting her body upwards so that she balanced on her hands.

“Fuck!” Ruby repeated, this time a little louder.

“I’ll say,” chortled Ashley. “Does Eric know you can do this?”

Ariel winked. “I’ve got to save something for our wedding night.” She finally succeeded in pushing herself off of the ground. Her friends clapped heartily, and Ariel dropped back to the floor, unraveling from the uncomfortable position and flopping across Belle’s and Anna’s laps. As she reached for her beer, she asked, “Who’s up next?”

“Belle,” Ashley declared, downing the last of her IPA and reaching for another bottle. “Belle’s up next.”

“Truth, right, Bluebell?” Ariel teased.

Belle blushed, but before she could respond, Ruby snapped, “FUCK!”

“Do you have something to share with us, Miss Lucas?” Anna asked.

“I most certainly do,” Ruby assured her.

“We’re in the middle of a game!” Anna protested.

“Come on,” Ariel laughed. “It’s  _Belle_. She’s going to choose truth. It can wait.”

“You must think I’m  _so_  boring,” Belle muttered, scraping the label off of her bottle of beer.

Anna covered her heart with her hand. “We wouldn’t have you any other way, Bluebell. We love our truth-choosing bookworm just the way she is.”

Belle snorted. “Tonight, the bookworm has teeth. I choose dare.”

“Ooooooooooh,” said Ashley and Anna cooed in unison.

“I know what you should do,” Ruby declared.

Ariel wagged her finger in the tall brunette’s face. “And yet, the honor has been entrusted to me. Nice try, Rubes.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of respecting your elders?” Ruby asked her friend.

“That’s rich, coming from a girl who’s sixteen days older than me and who calls her grandma the Crypt Keeper.”

“Would you just listen to me? I have a very good idea. For the ultimate dare.“ Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Belle’s stomach clenched in anxious anticipation. "You know me, Legs. You know I wouldn’t just say that.”

Ariel quirked an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Yes!” Ruby crowed, pumping her fist in the air. “You know I frequent Craigslist. More specifically, the Casual Encounters section.”

“Come again?” asked Anna.

Ruby grinned. “Some girls read the Wedding section the Sunday New York Times. I read this. Usually, the Storybrooke pages are pretty dead.”

“This town is so boring,” Ashley muttered.

“And I’m pretty sure that most of the ads that men do write for women are authored by Dr. Whale.”

“This town is so predictable,” Ashley added.

Ruby waved her phone for her friends to see. “But tonight, I found this.” She paused for dramatic effect before launching into a husky reading of the posting in question. “Man in his fifties offers cunnilingus to willing woman. Can travel to Boston or New York. Can provide a luxurious hotel room. Will listen to, respect, and act upon your desires. Let me lie, let me die on thy snow-colored bosom. I would eat of thy flesh as a delicate fruit. I am drunk of its smell, and the scent of thy tresses is a flames that devours. George Moore.”

Ashley wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t he defeat the purpose of an anonymous want ad if he signs his name at the end?”

Anna swatted at her friend. “Don’t be daft! George Moore is a poet. More specifically,” and here the redhead jerked her head towards Belle, “he’s a favorite of our very own Belle.”

Ruby took a self-congratulatory swig of beer. “It’s kismet! He’s perfect for her.“

"I beg your pardon?” Belle asked, her face coloring as her ire began to awaken. “Do you remember what happened the last time you tried to set me up? And mind you, I knew Will Scarlet! He wasn’t some random man hunting for pussy on the Internet.”

Ashley tutted. “Don’t blame Ruby for the Will Fiasco. That one was on me. I forgot what different tastes in men we have.”

“Which only serves to underscore my point that this man has Serious Belle Potential,” Ruby interjected.

Belle narrowed her eyes at the brunette. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“He’s over fifty!” Anna declared. “So he’s old! You like old men, Belle. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. When I think of being with an older man, it makes me feel like I’d be dating my dad. But you’re different! Which is wonderful. Really wonderful.”

Belle opened her mouth to protest, but Ariel silenced her with a stern look. “What our dear Anna lacks in a filter she makes up for in truth. When you reread Sense and Sensibility, it’s for Alan Rickman, _not_ for Hugh Grant.”

“You mean Colonel Brandon and Edward Ferrars,” Belle grumbled, all the more put out because she hadn’t been as covert about her sexual preferences as she’d originally thought. She’d been attracted to older men since she’d moved to Storybrooke in her early teens (and with excellent reason).

“And he doesn’t care about getting himself off,” Ashley reminded them. “He wants to go down on a woman.”

“It might surprise you that this bookworm has experienced cunnilingus and found it sorely lacking,” Belle replied. She cringed when all four women fixed her with looks that too closely resembled pity.

Ashley huffed. “I don’t want to make you feel bad, Belle, but I doubt that Grant Ashton is any kind of authority on oral sex.”

“That’s what makes this man so amazing,” Anna agreed. “He wants to know what you want. He’ll listen to you! As someone who’s had bad oral sex and amazing oral sex, let me tell you, the key is that he’s willing to take direction.”

Ariel laughed. “Hans ate you out?”

Anna made a face. “You’d think a guy with so many brothers would have picked up some tips about how to please a woman. Although I guess it’s possible that they’re all bad at oral sex. If that’s the case, I feel sorry for all of the mobs of unsatisfied women they leave in their wakes.”

“Back to Belle,” Ruby commanded.

“Oh, don’t change course on my behalf,” Belle muttered.

“Bluebell, we would never make you do something you didn’t want to do, especially when it comes to an act as intimate as sex.”

Ariel wore the same nurturing look she adopted with the children she taught to swim. “But what’re the odds that a local man quotes one of your favorite poets in his well-written Craigslist posting?”

“If it matters, he used correct punctuation and did not abuse the Caps lock,” Ruby interjected.

Belle found that her estimations of the man rose when she discovered he respected the English language and its intricate rules. She wished she’d met him on her way to the library, in the diner at Granny’s, at the cabin he owned in the woods which she stumbled upon during a storm, at a town hall -

Chastising herself, Belle forced that series of picadillos from her mind. It wouldn’t do her any good to think of those fantasies (or, more specifically, the man who inspired them) at a time like this.

“You’re quiet,” Anna observed. “Is it an  _‘I’m so angry with my friends because they stuck their noses where they don’t belong and I never want to speak to them again’_  kind of quiet or an  _'I’m actually considering this wild idea because I would love to spend the rest of my night with some George Clooney hottie’s face buried between my legs’_  kind of quiet?”

“I don’t find George Clooney that attractive,” Belle admitted.

Ashley gasped. “Do you have something against perfectly dimpled cheeks and a gorgeous smile?”

“Crooked teeth can be sexy,” Belle protested before she could stop herself.

Ruby laughed. “What, like Mr. Gold’s snaggletooth?”

Ariel gasped in horror. “Oh, shit! There’s no way I can dare Belle to respond to this posting. What if Mr. Gold wrote it?

"I’m pretty sure Mr. Gold is in his sixties,” Ruby said thoughtfully.

“He’s fifty-one,” Belle snarled.

Ashley shrugged. “Some people age prematurely.”

Belle’s temper, usually a docile creature, flared as her friends slagged off Mr. Gold.

“Guys, stop!” Anna cried when she noticed the tense set of Belle’s jaw. “He’s Belle’s friend.”

The other women stopped talking and had the grace to look chastened. “Sorry, Bluebell,” Ariel muttered. “I forget that you actually get along with him.”

“I’m sorry too, Belle,” Ashley said.

“We’re the worst sort of bitches,” Ruby added. “Please forgive us, Belle.”

The foursome made for an apologetic tableau, and Belle’s anger slowly faded. “Mr. Gold isn’t an easy man to love, but he’s good to me. I don’t like it when others gossip about him behind his back.”

“We won’t do it again,” Anna promised. “I swear!”

Belle sighed. “I guess since I’m stuck with you four, I ought to find it in my heart to forgive you.”

“You’re the greatest, Bluebell,” Ruby declared, launching herself at Belle and enveloping the smaller woman in a tight hug.

“Forget the dare,” Ariel said. “Let’s just hang out.”

Belle shook her head. “I think I’m down for the count,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“You’re not leaving because we upset you, are you?” Ariel asked worriedly.

“No, Legs, I really am tired. Don’t stop the party because I’m begging off, though.” Belle stood and waved to her friends. “I love you all. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“We love you Bluebell!”

“Text me when you get home safe!”

“Want to get coffee on Tuesday?”

The chorus of questions and goodbyes delayed Belle’s departure for another ten minutes. When she finally extricated herself from Ariel’s apartment, she wandered down the street in a daze. Truth be told, the minor spat with her friends had faded almost instantly from her memory. In its place, a throbbing need blossomed within her. Belle’s fingers tingled as she rummaged through her purse, looking for her phone.

She paused just short of a street lamp, the tips of her black heels mere centimeters from the hazy circle of light it cast. Belle’s business belonged to the night and the shadows. She would not shine a beacon upon it and risk detection, however unlikely that might be. Belle put stock in words and in the structure of good storytelling, and stepping into the lamp’s glow would be a discredit to both.

It took less than five minutes for Belle to find the now infamous Craigslist post. As she reread the lines from Triumph of the Flesh, her body responded vigorously. Words held incredibly powerful meanings for Belle. The first time she stumbled across George Moore’s poetry, she had been so overcome by its sensual imagery that she’d locked herself in her room and had spent an entire weekend with her right hand working furiously between her thighs.

Moore’s words held no less sway over her now.

Trembling with anticipation, Belle hit the reply button.

> _Good Evening. I believe I am the woman for whom you are looking. I would love to meet you and see if we connect and could proceed to the heart of your proposal…_

* * *

Gold paced in the hotel room. The erection which had previously affirmed his purpose and driven his actions had fled at the first sign of battle. He did not know whether to say a pray of thanks to George Moore or curse the poet to the depths of Hades for making his fantasy a reality.

So much could go wrong.

He might find the woman unattractive. More likely, she would be disappointed with him. He might do everything wrong, and if that happened, she might ridicule him for his foibles. If she decided to reject him, Gold hoped she had the grace to do it before he went down on her. While a flat out refusal would be painful, it seemed a far kinder fate than to be tried and found lacking.

Someone knocked softly, tremulously, at the door. Gold froze, his legs growing roots that fixed him to his spot. A long moment passed. The person knocked again, and Gold burst from his stupefaction, stumbling towards the door in boorish stomps. Before he opened the door, Gold reminded himself that the woman on the other side had just as much, if not more, to lose.

Responding to him had been an act of bravery on her part. He would endeavor to be worthy of her trust and interest.

“Good evening,” he began, pulling the door open. “I’m so glad -”

“Mr. Gold?” squeaked Belle French, clutching her hands to her chest.

Gold thought he might pass out from the shock. Not only did he know the woman who’d come to him for oral pleasure, but he’d managed to attract the one person in Storybrooke whose company he found tolerable.

Be honest with yourself, you old pervert, Gold thought. You more than tolerate her. Exactly who did you imagine eating out when you wrote that ad?

In fight or flight situations, Gold was a frequent flyer, so he responded to Belle’s surprised exclamation the only way his body would allow. He slammed the door in her face and hobbled to the window as quickly as he could. He would fashion a parachute out of his bedding if he had to, but come hell or high water, Roan Gold meant to escape the room through whatever means necessary and through any portal but the door.

Belle French pounded on the door. “Mr. Gold? You let the door shut! I’m still out here.”

Gold began to pant as he struggled to open the window. He cursed the safety conscious fucker who’d made it so hotel windows would only open an inch or two.

“Mr. Gold? It’s me, Belle! I feel like a woman scorned, standing out here. Please let me in!”

Her lilting Australian accent cut through Gold’s panic, and he paused in his attempt to break the window’s safety latch.

“You want to - You want to come inside?” he finally asked. His heart beat wildly in his chest. His cock, the traitorous hopeful bastard, swelled in his pants at the prospect.

“Very much so,” came Belle’s muffled voice. “Unless - are you disappointed it’s me?”

Gold clutched the head of his cane and reminded himself of his commitment to bravery. He went to the door and opened it again. Belle French stood before him in all her youthful glory. He could barely breath for the blueness of her eyes, for the way her petal pink lips curved into a bright smile.

“I think when I chose George Moore that I hoped, in the most desperate, pathetic way possible, that the woman who responded would remind me of you.”

Belle beamed at him, and his cock became so hard that he trembled. “Would it be equally pathetic to admit that I’ve touched myself while imagining that you were doing this to me?” she asked.

Gold gasped. His cock throbbed, and he feared his good knee might give out as well. He could not process this new fantastical reality in which he now resided. “Have you felt this way for long?” he asked.

Belle’s head dipped bashfully, but she quickly straightened again so she could meet his gaze. “For years.”

Gold would not allow himself to become mired in regret over time wasted. If he had been a more confidant man, he might have recognized Belle’s overtures of friendship for the shy flirtations they had probably been.

Instead, he dropped his can and reached for her. Belle melted into his arms, and her lips sought his. Their first kiss drove the breath from Gold’s lungs, and he could not suppress his rumble of delight. Belle responded in kind, and her sweet rough tongue stroked the corner of his mouth to gain entrance.

Gold felt his balls draw up, and before he could warn Belle, he began to cum in rough, sizzling spurts. “Of, fucking hell, Belle!” he cried, clutching her close. Belle realized what was happening, and rather than backing away from him, she ground against him. Gold’s climax lasted until he felt sure he would lose consciousness from the intense pleasure of it.

Belle, infinitely wise, maneuvered them to the nearby bed so they could both collapse upon it. She cradled his and stroked his hair and whispered loving praises in his ear. “So handsome. So beautiful. I’ve never been so aroused in my life, Mr. Gold.”

As Gold’s orgasm drew to a close, exhaustion stole over him. He wanted to tell Belle so many things before he fell into an inevitable slumber, only a few of them about what he would do to her when he had recovered. But one thing seemed to be an essential piece of information.

“Please, call me Roan.”

* * *

Belle did not begrudge Gold his deep sleep. After such an intense orgasm, the man deserved a nice rest. She also managed to nod off for a few hours, but when she awoke, she felt the same sizzling arousal that drew her to his ad in the first place. She lay in bed and listened to Gold snore and tried to tame her horniness into a more manageable creature. When she failed, Belle decided it would not be inappropriate to give her right nipple a small tweak. Pleasure shot from her breast down to her groin, where it mixed with the thrumming desire building there.

One small pinch proved to be an insignificant outlet for her needs. Her fingers went to her other breast. Almost involuntarily, her free hand snaked downwards to slip beneath the line of her demure panties. She moaned when she felt her clitoris, already plump and stiff. Belle traced a light circle over the little pearl and knew her increased sensitivity meant that her eventual orgasm would be blinding in its strength. She whimpered fretfully, desperate for something only he could provide her.

“My darling Belle,” murmured Gold sleepily, “if you continue down this path, I will be made redundant.”

Belle whimpered.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Gold intoned. “Please. Let me make you feel good.”

Belle’s thighs fell open, and she bucked against Gold’s hand when he cupped her there.

“Bloody hell,” Gold muttered breathlessly, “you’re so fucking wet and so fucking hot. I want to kiss you between your legs. May I, Belle? Please let me worship you with my mouth and tongue.”

“Oh, Gods!” Belle cried as he drew a circle around her clit. He would not divert his path, no matter how much she writhed against his touch. “Oh, please! I need to – I need to!”

Gold sat up and peeled the covers back. “I know, pet, I know. I promise to take care of you.” He shuffled down the bed, barely remembering to take care not to strain his bad knee. Once he had settled himself between Belle’s legs, he brought his face close to her center and inhaled deeply.

“Oh, my God!” he groaned. “You smell divine.” He reached for the top of her panties and paused to give Belle a moment to stop him. When she continued to rock her hips towards his face, Gold took that as her consent. “Sweet Belle. Wonderful Belle. Spectacular Belle.” He continued to croon gentle praises as he decorated the insides of her thighs with gentle kisses.

Gold had promised to listen to his partner’s needs and desires, but Belle did not seem to be in any kind of shape to instruct him at the moment. He would have to trust his instincts and stay attuned to Belle’s reactions. With the fingers of his right hand, he spread Belle’s lips apart and let his warm breath puff against the most delicate place upon her body. Her tiny clit quivered, and he bestowed it with a lingering kiss.

“Roan!” shrieked Belle.

Gold kissed her clitoris again and allowed his tongue to ghost over its tip. Belle’s body jolted, and she yowled. Her throaty cry shot straight to Gold’s cock, and he abandoned all pretense of teasing. He pressed his face to her mound, burying his nose in her slick curls, and wrapped his lips around her clit. Gently but firmly, he began to suck on the sweet nub. It quivered against his tongue, and the room filled with the sounds of Gold’s lapping and Belle’s babbling.

Belle had not known her body was capable of the kind of pleasure Gold gave her.

Nothing had prepared her for how good it would feel to look down and see his face pressed against her pussy, his eyes screwed shut in concentration. She saw his lips moving as he suckled her and felt his rasping tongue working wonders on her clit. She reveled in the noises his lips made as he rubbed them against her slick flesh. Gold’s fingers circled her entrance, stroking her lovingly, and she nodded her consent to him.

Gold slid one and then two slender digits into Belle and cursed when she felt how tight she was. He crooked his finger and pressed against a heretofore unknown bundle of nerves, and Belle’s body nearly convulsed off of the bed as her orgasm broke over her. She bucked against his mouth and shook and wailed as the pleasure intensified and her whole body shook with the effort of surviving her climax. Gold continued to worship her clit with his mouth and pumped his fingers in and out of her to prolong her please.

When Belle collapsed into a boneless heap, Gold crawled back up the bed so he could bury his face in the crook of her neck. “Please spend the night. I do not think I could bear you leaving now.”

Belle smirked and reached down to grasp Gold’s erection in her hand. She marveled at how thick and heavy her felt against her palm. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, Roan. Especially since it’s  _your_ turn.” 


End file.
